


the softest wrongs in life.

by orphan_account



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Codependency, Consent, Declarations Of Love, Drabble Collection, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Fluff and Humor, Forbidden Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Requited Love, Secret Relationship, Sibling Incest, Touch-Starved, but yeah its all the same general AU, it's always consensual okay, its a little all over the place with the timeline, k the latest chapter finally has a lil nsfw so be warned, none of that dubcon shit in here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2018-12-26 06:42:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 15,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12053463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Its the closest and best intimacy they know, will likely ever know, and it’s enough.





	1. lonely nights.

**Author's Note:**

> bc my friend drew it out of me, this is the fanfic account for the joint tumblr [lavender-tangerine](https://lavender-tangerine.tumblr.com/), which is admittedly a work in progress, but progressing nonetheless! drop by and talk to us if you want to see more writing(+artwork but that's Newt's thing) like this.
> 
> anyways, below is the drabble that started this whole thing, and all the ones following it. most of the drabbles will be at least loosely connected to this AU, but will be tagged if they aren't.

Lonely nights means a lot of things for them. Maybe its the silence feeling oppressive, maybe its the weight of their lives dragging them down. Often, its the isolation of their home, their family, that brings them most.

For whatever reason, the lonely nights come, and it crawls into their chests and makes them cold and hollow. Those nights, they can’t stay in their beds, alone and singled out from everything else in the world. Those nights, they have to find someone to cure the loneliness, just for a few hours.

There are two beds, two different rooms, and two different ways the night can go.

Sometimes, when the lights have all gone down as the sun starts to rise, Mikey will roll over and find his pillows and stuffed animals not enough to keep him company. Sometimes, when he’s been bullied out of his lab or garage, Donnie will stare at his ceiling and feel achingly separated from the world around him.

One of them creeps out from under the covers, which of them it is depending on who feels loneliest that late night. It hardly matters in the end, who makes the decision. It ends the same regardless.

Someone’s footsteps make no sound as he moves across the hallway- this is a secret,  _their_  secret, and no one would ever understand- and silently opens the door of his brother’s room.

Neither of them ever refuses the other, even if they’re not too lonely that night. But, the loneliness is always there, a constant, whether quiet or loud- and someone to push that loneliness away is never unappreciated.

Tonight its Mikey’s turn, quietly letting himself into Donnie’s room. Tonight was hard, feelings of emptiness catching up to him without warning. Their father’s altar was too much tonight, and the increased smallness of their family creating a wedge of grief in him he can’t handle alone.

So he tiptoes across the cold floor, colder than the loneliness in his chest, and slides himself into Donnie’s bed.

His brother is awake, like he always is, like he  _knows_  when Mikey is going to appear and want attention- and Donnie does know, like Mikey always knows when  _Donnie_  will be wanting closeness.

Blankets are shifted, Mikey being drawn under them and pulled into a loose embrace.

Donnie’s hands slide over Mikey’s shell, down his sides, carefully thumbing each bump in his carapace and scales. It’s an intimate touch no one else has ever given to Mikey, and it makes him shiver.

He settles his weight on top of Donnie, halfway kneeling above him, his brother’s hands on his hips and eyes locked directly on Mikey.

It’s not an intense look, or a heated one. It’s just… comforting, to have someone look at him and see only  _Mikey_ , and not be looking at anything else. It makes him feel real, and valued, in a world that scarcely knows he exists.

Mikey lifts a hand from the mattress, cupping the side of Donnie’s face. A moment, and Donnie closes his eyes; leaning into the touch.

They’re both touch starved. There’s just them, their brothers, and the handful of friends they have in the whole wide world. It becomes a physical thing, the lack of intimacy with anyone, unless they do this.

Here, in a dark bedroom, away from prying eyes or judgement or any danger at all…

It’s just them. And that’s more than enough.

Donnie’s eyes are slits as Mikey leans close, holding still as Mikey presses light kisses to his jaw. It’s barely brushes of contact, but it starts a warmth in the emptiness of his chest.

Donnie’s hand move upwards, not downwards, because that’s not what this is- and find their way around the back of Mikey’s neck. Gentle and careful, never holding too tight or controlling.

It’s unspoken between them, about this. That if one of them ever wanted to stop, neither would try to keep the other. They would never take this delicate, infinitely precious connection and ruin it like that. Stain it like that.

This is something they’re sharing equally, or not at all.

Mikey hasn’t wanted to stop, not yet, and probably not ever. Donnie feels similarly, filling his own constant emptiness with the fluttering kisses against his cheek.

He turns his head, catches Mikey’s lips, and tightens his hold on the back of Mikey’s neck for a moment. Keeping them like that, breathlessly chaste as they kiss.

Mikey’s weight slowly falls on him completely, as he melts into the action. It doesn’t create a hundred fireworks or an explosion of emotions in him. It’s just soft, winding its way through the loneliness and banishing it near completely. It’s a gently loving feeling, dear and warm in all the right ways.

It’s perfect, a counterpart to the hundreds of ways their lives aren’t.

It’s enough.

Until Donnie’s alarm goes off the next night, the next beginning of a thousand nearly identical evenings, they stay in his bed. Touching, curling close. Warming each other’s internal cold.

Hands run over shells, scales, just heavy enough to hold the other near. Kissing dies off in slow fits, turning into their legs wrapped around each other and faces pressed into shoulder and necks. Breathing evens out, and their plastrons rise and fall in tandem, the way they do in training, or patrol, or any at hour of the night or day.

Its the closest and best intimacy they know, will likely ever know, and it’s enough.


	2. cooking class.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikey talks Donnie into a bonding activity!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have some sweetly savory fluff, with mild undertones of spicier things.

Donnie stares at the bowl of mixed ingredients in front of him, waiting for the brown liquidy substance to spontaneously ruin itself.

He pokes it again with his spatula, not convinced he hasn’t already ruined it himself.

“This looks too liquidy,” He says, frowning.

“It’s  _fine_ , Dee. You’re doing great!”

Donnie glances at Mikey’s bowl, which is filled with creamy coloured batter and looks nothing like his.

“I know I’m messing it up. Give me the recipe.”

Mikey grins, shaking his head. “That would totally defeat the purpose of takin’ it away in the first place.”

Donnie grumbles, poking his batter and wondering how Mikey had talked him into learning how to bake without a recipe.

Mikey’s bowl makes a  _tunk_  as its set down, and then Donnie has a hand wrapped around his. Mikey presses himself into Donnie’s space, slips between him and the kitchen table, and suddenly there’s a sweet tasting pair of lips on his.

Oh yeah. That’s how he got talked into this.

Mikey has sugar and vanilla on his lips, from taste-testing his share of muffin batter. It’s a swirl of enticing flavour on Donnie’s tongue, and he hums appreciatively.

“Mikey- mm- Mikey, we have to be-  _mmm_ ,” Damn his brother and the way Mikey gets to him like this. Donnie breaks the kiss before it goes any deeper, ignoring the pouty whine Mikey makes. Donnie fixes on him a stern stare. “They’re still home, Mikey. We have to be careful.”

“Uuuuugh, yeah, yeah I  _know_ ,” Mikey mutters, grabby little hands still on Donnie’s hips. Donnie’s may or may not be similarly on Mikey. “You just look so cute that apron!”

Donnie only allows one more kiss, more so a peck, before they separate. “Thank you, but you’ll have to save appreciating it like that until later.”

Mikey’s hands brushes low on Donnie’s shell, tempting. “Would that include me getting to take it off you?” He asks in a low voice, brushing a finger the tip of Donnie’s tail.

Donnie swats at Mikey’s hand, which just makes his brother laugh.

“ _Honestly_ , you’re incorrigible,” Donnie reprimands.

Mikey grins, toothy and unrepentant. Donnie rolls his eyes, shoos Mikey further out of his space, and goes to grab the electric mixer.

He examines the levels- judging the watery level to his batter- sticks it in, and turns it on.

Immediately he can tell he’s set it too high, because the brown batter goes flying everywhere.

Donnie swears, turns the stupid thing off, and sets it down on the table before the bowl tips over. He can feel little globs on his apron, and somehow, on his face as well.

Mikey is losing it beside him, holding his sides, and Donnie questions just how much he loves his brother.

Donnie wipes a smear of wetness from under his eye, grimacing. “I hate you. This is why I wanted the directions.”

“Aw  _no_ , don’t get all- all  _mad,”_ Mikey wheezes in between laughs. “You’re so cute oh my god-”

Donnie crosses his arms, turning away not at all petulantly. This is why he used recipes- they had instructions for every step and he never botched up so embarrassingly.

“Doooooonnie, c'mon,” Mikey leans on Donnie’s arm, beseeching. “Look at me you big grumpy goof.”

“No. Fuck of. I’m embarrassed.”

“Sure are,” Mikey says affectionately. Donnie feels his bother stand on his tiptoes, and then a warm swipe goes across a spot on his cheek. “Still a sweetie, though.”

Donnie tries to lean away, cheeks starting to burn for a reason beyond embarrassment. “Mikey- no-”

Mikey’s hands slide around Donnie’s neck, tugging him down, and he starts kissing the spots of batter on Donnie scales. Licking off the sweet mix and making Donnie’s cheeks and stomach heat up.

Mikey licks his lips, and Donnie unconsciously copies the action. His brother grins like a Cheshire Cat, and Donnie realizes they’ve moved back into the position he’d barely just gotten them out of.

“C'mon, Donnie,” Mikey says, smug and purring under his breath. “You gotta admit this isn’t _so_  bad.”

Donnie finds himself smirking, and leans forwards to put their foreheads together. There’s nothing but the smells of batter, sweetness, and Mikey in his senses, and it all cloys pleasantly on his tongue.

“You are,” Donnie says, smiling. “utterly incorrigible.”

“And you just can’t get enough of it,” Mikey teases.

Donnie lets Mikey tip his chin, snagging another slow, sugar sweet kiss. Donnie can’t help himself getting into it, gently pushing Mikey backwards against the table; putting their hips flush and sliding a leg between Mikey’s.

Mikey makes a shivery little noise, and Donnie sighs as he forces himself to reel things back in.

 _“Later,”_  Donnie reminds, even though his hands are still on Mikey’s hips, thumbs and fingers curled a might bit possessively.

That’s Mikey’s fault. He’s the one who does these things to Donnie.

Mikey sticks out his tongue, but releases his arms around Donnie’s neck. Not without pecking Donnie one last time on the nose, though.

“Spoilsport,” Mikey says, picking up his bowl again.

“One of us has to have self-control right now,” Donnie says evenly.

Mikey just huffs, but doesn’t seem actually upset. Donnie rewards him after a little bit of cleaning his area off; taking Mikey by the chin and giving him a surprise kiss with the honey flavoured batter still lingering from his latest taste-test.

From the way Mikey hums appreciatively, licking Donnie’s lips and his own, it’s an acceptable gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't forget to go follow the blog! mod Newt is safe from hurricane Irma now and we've started posting artwork+writing+reblogs of sweet, sweet d/m content.
> 
> (look up lavender-tangerine on tumblr, if you missed the link in the first chapter.)


	3. pillow fort.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the softest hurt/comfort possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly?? mikey is more so the instigator for things than donnie is. idk why the fandom portrays otherwise.

Curled up and calm, there’s scarcely anything that could disrupt their moods.

With a blanket canopy above them, a pillow fortress surrounding them, and the flickering colours of the old television playing across their faces- Donnie and Mikey lay tangled together, hidden inside Mikey’s locked and barricaded room.

The documentary on the screen plays at a low volume, the smooth narration perfect for the moment. This is the third episode they’ve watched, and Mikey is pleased that the raw tension in Donnie’s body has finally unwound during the time they’ve lain in Mikey’s bed.

A few careless, hurtful words- and Donnie had shrunk unnoticeably, wilting on himself in a way only Mikey had noticed.

“I like it,” Mikey had said, stubborn and privately angry. “I think it’s really neat, actually. Seein’ stuff like this, even if we won’t ever really.”

And Donnie had smiled, soft and bashful, holding his complete collection of Blue Planet between his hands.

“…you want to watch it?”

Mikey had grinned, and stated the obvious.

Now they lay together, comfortably isolated in Mikey’s room. The slow burning anger in his stomach has died down; the defensiveness he felt for Donnie diminished but not gone completely. It’s there, like it sometimes is, and he doesn’t let it touch this moment.

Donnie is pressed close to Mikey, head tucked under Mikey’s chin and arms wrapped tight around his midsection. Mikey doesn’t have to look to know his brother is watching the screen intently; re-memorizing the flow of the scenes and dialogue. This is an episode that he’s seen Donnie watch tens of times, just as rapt to it as he always is.

Mikey pressed a kiss to Donnie’s brow, feeling protective and a little possessive.

This is a side of Donnie only  _he_ gets to see. Not their brothers with their dismissive words; just Mikey and Mikey alone. He’s the one who gets to see Donnie soft and open like this, eager to learn and experience. He’s the one who gets to blockade his door so Donnie  _can_  be this soft and open, free to love what he wants.

That sort of applies to him and Mikey as well, the way they are together.

He’s watching Donnie more than he is the documentary, but Mikey pays attention because he knows Donnie will be happiest afterwards, talking about the contents of the film.

Mikey loves it when Donnie lights up, talking fast and full of rarely let out enthusiasm. It’s amazing, seeing that genuinely curious and fascinated side of him, and Mikey never gets tired of it.

Donnie hums quietly, and tilts his head upwards; gently demanding attention.

Mikey obeys, and moves his lips onto Donnie’s.

It’s sweet and soft, like Donnie is in this moment. It’s the sort of kiss that doesn’t heat Mikey up, but instead kind of melts him inside. Ooey-gooey goodness, courtesy of someone he’d watch a thousand documentaries about.

“Thanks,” Donnie says, in between slow kisses. “I know it’s a little boring for you guys, but-”

“Ah ah ah- no it’s not,” Mikey corrects, breaking their kiss to look at Donnie semi-seriously. “It’s cool and fascinating and all sorts of awesome, and I’m liking it just fine, thanks.”

Donnie hums doubtfully, and Mikey pushes their lips back together to put a stop to that.

Better, Donnie pliant and happy rather than tense and quietly sad. Mikey slides a hand to Donnie’s side, and delicately starts running his fingers along the sensitive places where their cartilage and scales meet.

Donnie makes a chirruping sound in the back of his throat, followed by a breathy  _“a-aah”,_  that makes Mikey’s heart and stomach twist. Massaging further, a throaty purr comes out of Donnie, and Mikey’s own joins it.

He rolls them over, Donnie underneath him with hooded eyes and slightly parted lips. Mikey’s stomach is getting hot, the movie forgotten in his efforts to turn Donnie into a puddle of bliss, and he raises himself up to straddle Donnie’s waist-

And he knocks into the canopy of their fort, as well as the cushion walls- and brings the whole thing down on them.

Mikey groans in frustration. Donnie snorts a laugh.

“So much for  _that_ mood,” Mikey grumbles, freeing them from their pillow and blanket burial.

Donnie is still laughing, eyes crinkled. “It’s- it’s okay, that was good on its own. But I thought we were watching a movie?”

Mikey pouts. “I was trying to make it even more special.”

“Aw, you- get down here. Dork.”

“Says the science nerd,” Mikey grouses, though he leans down and accepts the kiss he’s given. Donnie is smiling as he does, and Mikey can feel it through the kiss.

It’s not quite what he was going for, but this is alright, too.

The documentary is forgotten a little longer, as Mikey tries and marginally succeeds in drawing out purrs and breathless gasps from Donnie. By the end, Donnie's breathing is hot and soft, pressed into Mikey’s neck, and he’s a shivering mess from the methodical roaming of Mikey’s hands.

Donnie doesn’t even need it down lower, all it takes is strong fingers in little weak spots and he melts into a puddle. Mikey _loves_ doing that, undoing Donnie like this. All his stress and unhappiness evaporated and replaced. It’s erotic, melting him with touches and kisses in all the right spots.

Good thing Mikey’s door and walls are thick. Donnie is a little loud when they get into it.

Mikey fumbles for the remote, and clicks over to the menu to restart the episode. Donnie’s eyes move back to the screen as he does, still a bit glazed in his total relaxation.

Later Donnie will be back to his keen sharpness, observant and wary- but right now he’s sleepy and undone, and Mikey will cherish the few hours it lasts.

Their pillow fort is long gone, but they’ve still got the blankets on their legs and the warmth of their bodies pressed together.

Mikey kisses Donnie’s cheek, vibrating with smugness and self-satisfaction, and settles against his brother to listen to Donnie’s subvocal purring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bless these two.
> 
> [come follow the blog for artwork! mod Newt is a great artist.](https://lavender-tangerine.tumblr.com/) and if you want to request something on there, feel free! we'll see what we can do. ;3c


	4. a mountain and forest.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donnie has some feels about them separating to have their vision quests, and he's not alone in that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyone remember Vision Quest??? nice designs bad plot lines, as usual.

Warm winds blow through the trees as they prepare. Leaves rustling and bird wings noisily taking flight.

Donnie slides his carved mask into place, narrowing the wide green world as he does his focus. There’s a goal they all have to meet, and failing to do so would mean him falling behind his entire family. It would mean he isn’t strong enough, dependable enough, to defend the ones he loves most.

A flash of orange, among all the shades of green on their skin and the underbrush, and Donnie’s narrowed focus shifts to a different target.

The  _one_  he loves most.

Mikey’s cheeks and arms are streaked with paint, challenging and bold. A bandanna in the place of his mask, bright where everything else is pale white.

Mikey stands out, like he always does, brilliant and wild- and something coils in Donnie’s stomach.

His brother’s eyes find his, for a split second across the clearing they’re dressing in, and Donnie is given a sly, knowing smile.

Donnie’s own mouth is covered, but he smiles back regardless.

Their brothers are too focused to notice the both of them slipping back, after they’ve dispersed. A dramatic exit is all good and well for Leo and Raph, but Donnie feels need for something more meaningful.

Mikey obviously feels similar, materializing out of the trees like he does. But, even with silent footsteps and a solemn demeanor, he’s still Donnie’s brother through and through.

And that’s shown through the bright, open smile Mikey gives him; unbidden now that they’re alone.

Donnie bends as Mikey approaches, lowering himself to be nearer. His cloak and mask are still unfamiliar weight on him, like the ax on his shell, and the dried paint along his legs.

Mikey had painted those careful, intricate lines. In a moment alone, away from their brothers, Donnie had lift one leg after another, spreading them apart to bare his inner thighs. With a wet paintbrush, and a gently intense eye, Mikey had drawn white streaks down Donnie’s scales.

It had been… somewhat heated; an intimacy like their lonely nights sometimes are. It had made Donnie’s eyes hooded and a seeping warmth move through his stomach.

Mikey eyes then, and now, seem just as warm and hooded.

They fit into each other’s space easily, hands finding familiar resting places. The woods are hushed around them, and its just them in the center of the clearing. Just them in the entire world.

Mikey’s smile widens, and he says, “You look badass, Dee.”

Donnie huffs a laugh, and traces a swipe of paint on Mikey’s cheek. “Could say the same to you.” Then, the weight of what’s happening grows again in his heart, and he says, “Be careful out there, alright? I… don’t know what I’d do if you got hurt when I wasn’t. There.”

Like Dimension-X, mere seconds apart and yet  _months_  as well, and Mikey had nearly been…

Lost.

Donnie can’t ever experience that, not when he came so close to it he knows how badly it would  _eviscerate him,_  the loss of Mikey.

Mikey looks up at him, pale light coming through the leaves above to highlight the bright blue of his eyes.

He’s still smiling.

Mikey’s fingers slide up to Donnie’s mask, and tip the edge upwards. Pushing it further, to rest on top of Donnie’s head and out of the way.

Standing on tiptoes, Mikey places a soft kiss on Donnie’s lips.

“I know,” He says. “I know. I’ll be careful, and you have to, too.”

The feeling goes both ways, how badly they would both be hurt if the other disappeared for good.

Mikey’s hand remains on Donnie’s jaw, thumb brushing the sides of his mouth. “Promise me?”

“…always,” Donnie breathes, and the achingly caring smile he gets in return melts him inside. “Promise me too, that you’ll come back okay.”

Mikey beams.

“I’ll always come back, you know that, Donnie. I’m not gonna leave you. Ever.”

Donnie’s tense worry subsides briefly, hearing the promise made aloud once again.

“We’ll both come back okay,” He says, drawing Mikey closer still, staring down at the brightest star in his universe. A sun, burning hot to the touch and essential to his life. “We have to.”

The  _have to_  is fluid, as to what it’s being applied to. There’s a city on the line, their father, the  _whole world._

And there’s them, too.

“Of course we will,” Mikey says, hand on Donnie’s jaw and the other around his neck.

The coil of protectiveness, need, and love burns in Donnie’s gut, and he kisses Mikey one last time. It’s sweeter than the smell of forest around them, and as desperate feeling as everything they do these days.

The sensation stays with him, all the way up the mountain, all through the battle with a ghost of his fears- and gives him the strength to stand strong, if only for the person he knows he will defend until the day he dies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> erotica is actually very good okay?


	5. romance cliché

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> generic romance clichés are so sweet when you've never experienced them before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> requested by mod Newt bc they have stellar taste.

Mikey’s heart and lungs feels like they’re filled with butterflies as he walks. Bright bursts of excitement and joy sending jitters through him with every step he takes.

Donnie walks in time with him, long legs slowed enough so they can walk at the same pace, and their joined hands swing between them.

There are people everywhere- aliens who don’t know who they are, what they are, or where they come from- and none of them give even a second glance towards Mikey and his brother as they stroll through the busy city streets.

It’s exhilarating. It’s thrilling. It’s making Mikey’s insides warm and gooey, as happy as the smile on his face is.

Donnie is smiling shyly to himself, and Mikey, and at their hands. That sends another flutter of butterflies through Mikey, and he’s so happy he could  _burst._

Losing earth sucked, watching their dad die  _really sucked,_ but here, walking out in the open for everyone to see and no one knowing or judging at  _all_  the two of them for being  _the two of them._

They’re together, in public, holding hands.

It’s a hundred daydreams Mikey’s had come true all at once. The two distant suns are warm on their scales, and the summer sweet wind that’s filled with the scents of street vendors wafts over them. This is like every gushy romance Mikey has ever watched; two people, walking through the crowds of hundreds, but lost in their own private world together.

He loves it, and his brother, so much that his heart twists and flips in the best way possible.

And, because he  _can,_  he seizes the chance to do something he wants to do at least a hundred times a day.

Donnie makes a surprised sound as he’s tugged downwards, and Mikey doesn’t pause before he’s pulled them flush together and holding onto his tall brother’s shoulders. With his arms looped around Donnie’s neck, Mikey kisses his brother in front of every single person walking past them. Not even one glances at them more than twice, and Mikey feels bubbly and elated from head to toe as he keeps kissing Donnie.

“-what was that for?” Donnie asks, nose pressed to Mikey’s as they sway together; jostled by the crowd flow they’re somewhat interrupting. He doesn’t let go of Mikey, and Mikey can feel the happy grin Donnie has.

“Just because,” Mikey says, gleeful and without care. The laugh that gets from Donnie is a precious, incredible thing, and Mikey has to kiss him again just for that.

They still have a few more hours to make a spectacle of themselves, before they have to go back to the ship and put a space between the two of them. So, because it’s a cliche that never gets old- they find a place that sells something akin to ice cream and get two cones. Sharing back and forth the luridly colored sweets that taste like pastries but feel like cold cream on their tongues.

They get told off by the shop owner, waving their four arms at Mikey and Donnie. Probably because Donnie goes to lick a bit of neon pink dessert off Mikey’s lips, and they get a little carried away with things.

They have to run out of the shop, nearly dropping their cones and cackling gleefully. Mikey swings Donnie in a circle, locking their arms together as they head off again into the busy streets pressed against one another.

No one looks twice, except with bemused expressions as two young people in love sashay their way up and down the street, laughing and kissing and enjoying themselves like they’ve never before.

“We are  _so_  doing this again next week,” Mikey says breathlessly.

Donnie laughs in his ear, pushing close and planting an affectionate kiss to Mikey’s head. “I think I’d be up for that. Want to try that ocean planet two systems back?”

“Oh  _hell yes.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you ever just want to hold someone's hand and share ice cream with them while walking down a street filled with people and talking about nothing and yet everything and feeling nothing but good things about life and each other? because same.


	6. clean sheets.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> laundry day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> set a little before they get into a relationship, just a bit of unknown mutual pining.

Mikey doesn’t  _mind_  doing the laundry, but he doesn’t exactly  _enjoy_  it, either. It’s a little tedious, folding all the clean sheets and taking them to his brothers’ rooms to swap out the old stuff. But hey, at least its not scrubbing the bathroom and the showers, or sweeping and mopping the  _entire freaking lair,_ like Leo and Raph have to.

He’s still got some kitchen duties, but dishes are communally done and he’s less likely to accidentally cause the washer and drier to explode, so laundry duty it is on top of that.

He’s doing Donnie’s room first, since his brother is the least likely to have crumbs in his sheets, and rarely gets upset if Mikey moves something out of place in his room while cleaning. Mikey’s brother is out at the moment, probably doing his share of chores- vehicle maintenance, cleaning his lab fridges, their general weapons stock- so Mikey walks inside with barely a knock of warning.

He likes Donnie’s room. It’s messy, and yet also organized. It’s got gadgets and books all over the place, but not to the point Mikey will trip over something on his way across the floor. Donnie’s bed is never made either, so its easy to swap sheets.

Mikey puts the new sheets on the desk near the bed, bending to pick up the ends of the old ones. He brings it close enough to his face that he gets a waft of Donnie’s scent, and he pauses.

He sniffs once, and then a second time.

Their sense of smell is powerful enough he can tell its fresh, and that Donnie’s been sleeping in his bed within the last ten hours.

Mikey’s stomach does a little flop, and he runs his fingers along the soft fabric.

It’s… a shame, to go and wash out such a familiar smell. Donnie’s bed smells like him, and it’s a smell Mikey’s brain associates with  _home, safety._

It’s comforting, enough to settle Mikey’s energy and center his head. It is also, however, making his stomach do weird flips still.

Unconsciously, he sits down, still running his fingers on the worn blanket. The mattress is well used, like everything in their home, and it’s… so soft, as Mikey lies down.

He takes a slow breath, and smells nothing but his brother’s scent. It’s all around him, covering all the other scents of their home. Its unlike all the other smells of their home, unlike Raph’s or Leo’s or master Splinter’s. It’s Donnie, and only Donnie.

Mikey hugs Donnie often, but never long enough to take in his scent quite like this.

He kind of wishes he did.

Mikey pulls the blanket close to him, curling around it as he tucks himself into a small ball. Donnie’s room is so… calming, for him. This bed, this  _smell._

It’s hard to calm down sometimes, for him. He’s only been here a few minutes, and already he’s feeling lulled and quiet.

Mikey takes a slow breath in, smelling the must and scent of Donnie’s sheets and mattress, and thinks of his brother smiling, of him laughing, of him holding Mikey tight in a drawn out moment, hands on his shell or cheek, eyes on Mikey and no one else…

“…hey, Mikey?”

A hand on his shell, gentle and light.

“Hey, wake up. What are you even doing in here?”

Mikey’s eyes won’t open, and he mumbles incoherently.

The hand rubs a smooth circle on the corner of his shell, still gentle and almost shiver inducing. No one touches Mikey like that, ever.

He sighs, and rolls a little into the contact. He wants more of it.

“…goofball. You have your  _own_  bed, you know that, right?”

His own-?

_Oh._

Mikey’s sleepiness evaporates, and he startles completely awake to sit upright, out of range of the touch he’d been leaning into.

Donnie is there, sitting beside him and looking amused. Mikey’s stomach flips, realizing he’s fallen asleep cuddling his brother’s sheets.

“Uh,” He says, brain futzing with panic. “h-hey, Donnie. Sup?”

Donnie huffs, smiling lopsidedly, and reaches over to pat Mikey’s skull. “You’re in my bed, Mikey, not your own. If you wanted a nap, yours was literally just across the hall. But is laundry really that tiring?”

Mikey laughs, barely keeping the tight awkwardness inside himself. “Maybe? Dunno what happened there. Just got comfy, or something. Sorry, bro.”

Donnie rolls his eyes, and slides his hand down the side of Mikey’s face; cupping his cheek for a brief second. It lingers there, and then falls away a moment later.

Mikey wishes he could pick it up and put it back there.

Donnie is smiling, still amused and soft at the edges. “I’ll do my own sheets, Mikey. You can go finish your nap.”

Mikey’s hands almost tighten in the sheets again.

He doesn’t want to go. He doesn’t want Donnie to change his sheets just yet.

He kind of wants to see if Donnie would lie down with him, like they used to as kids.

Mikey smiles, yawns dramatically, and stands up. “Thanks, promise I’ll do the rest before, though. Otherwise master Splinter’ll get his ‘ _I’m disappointed in you’_  look , blegh.”

“Probably a good plan,” Donnie laughs, and its a sound Mikey wants to box up and keep for himself.

He doesn’t, though. He can’t.

He just smiles, and leaves his brother to change his sheets.

 

*

 

Mikey shuts Donnie’s door behind him, and then it’s Donnie alone in his room.

His eyes stay on the door for a moment, and then drift to his bed.

The scene of Mikey, eyes shut and breathing even, plays in his mind. Mikey, curled up and quiet, holding Donnie’s blanket in a loose grip and utterly vulnerable.

Donnie thinks about how Mikey had leaned into his touch, when he’d tried to wake him.

He thinks about that, and lays down on his bed. It’s still warm, the spot where Mikey had been napping.

Donnie takes a breath, and smells just the faintest hint of Mikey on his bed.

…he can change his sheets tomorrow night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i still feel like this chapter was a little too smooshy, but Newt likes it, so. on the net it goes.


	7. exploration.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> testing some boundaries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sup folks, nice to seeya again. here's where we toe that line of nearly upping the rating, but i think we're still in the safe zone even if this is definitely headed for suggestive territory.
> 
> set sometime after they figure themselves out.

It’s Mikey’s turn first.

Their masks and belts lay on the floor of Donnie’s room, which is barricaded shut and locked in every possible way. Their brothers are out on a special training mission with Splinter- something neither Donnie nor Mikey is all that upset about- and they’ve got the lair to themselves for a good few hours.

Which means… they can finally go further. Try something… new.

Donnie’s teeth scrap slowly over Mikey’s neck, not bruising, but hard enough it makes Mikey shudder.

“Is that good?” He asks, nipping lightly again.

“ _Hhh-_  yeah, yeah that’s good,” Mikey gasps, nails digging into the groove of Donnie’s shell as he holds on. “Try- try further back-?”

Donnie moves his mouth further around his brother’s neck, and nips closer to Mikey’s spine; adding a kiss as he does. Mikey shudders again, turning his head and baring his neck. Donnie leaves nips and kisses all along it, covering Mikey’s throat with careful love bites.

Mikey groans, moving his hips up against Donnie’s, and Donnie grinds long and slow down on them. He takes his mouth off Mikey’s neck, pulling away to switch tactics. Mikey pants quietly, feverish eyes watching Donnie as he chooses a new spot to try.

This is something they’ve been wanting to experiment with for a while; test out where and what feels best in noisier ways than they’ve been able to. Kissing and tangling themselves up is good, in fact its  _great-_  but they want to move into a new sort of intimacy. To suit their now out in the open feelings for each other, and understanding that yes, they both want this.

Donnie knows, distantly, that he is the only person to have ever touched Mikey like this. The only person who’s ever made him breathless in this way, or left him limp on the bed and biting his lips raw with anticipation.

He wants to find every spot that will cause Mikey to look like that, find each one and memorize it like he has Mikey’s freckles and scars.

Donnie moves downwards, finding one of those scars on Mikey’s arm and pressing a slow kiss to it. He watches Mikey watch him as he does, kissing the pulse of Mikey’s wrist. Donnie feels it against his mouth, alive and fluttery, and its a parallel to Mikey’s hitching breaths.

From there, he moves to a gouge in Mikey’s plastron, lower on his stomach, and draws a chirp out of his brother for it. Donnie trails kisses up Mikey’s front, putting his hands on Mikey’s hips as he does, making his way back up the top and nipping once, sharply, in the spot Mikey had gasped at before.

“ _Aa-aah!”_  Mikey exclaims, and its a sound that goes right to Donnie’s stomach, then lower.

It’s not enough, though; he’s not done exploring. Donnie bumps Mikey’s cheek with his nose, asking mutely for Mikey to turn into a kiss. Mikey’s eyes are bleary, but he is still aware enough to listen. Mikey likes the feeling of bites, followed by tongue and lips, so Donnie nips and sucks, then turning softer and just pressing their lips together.

He moves his hips closer to Mikey’s, hooking Mikey’s legs around him and spreading them two ways. Mikey moans into Donnie’s mouth, and Donnie barely keeps his focus on the task at hand.

He cups the underside of Mikey’s thighs, massaging the muscles that get sore for both of them. A life of martial arts leaves them aching in so many places, and Donnie knows which muscles will be most sensitive because of it.

Mikey is a mess of purrs and gasps, clinging to his shoulders as Donnie’s fingers and thumbs knead his sensitive spots. He starts to move his hands down further, following the length of Mikey’s leg to get at his knees and calves- but Mikey mumbles something, making him pause.

“What?”

“Not- not there,” Mikey says. “Up was good, but not the knees. Hurts there.”

Donnie moves his hands away, back up to Mikey’s thighs instead. “Better?”

“Yeah, there’s good. Keep going?”

Donnie does. Massaging methodically and attentively, turning Mikey into putty as he goes. The inner thigh is more than sore, and the way Mikey throws his head back is evident of how well sensations effect him there.

Impulsively, Donnie shuffles himself down on the bed, and pushes Mikey’s knee upwards. Mikey’s hazy eyes follow him, head lifted and watching Donnie press his lips to the tender spots. Mikey bites his lip, vibrating and whining low in his throat as Donnie kisses him there. A nip added, then another, and Mikey moans.

Donnie backs off after a few minutes of that, mindful that Mikey is really starting to shudder and shake. They’re not going there tonight; this is a limitations test, and Donnie suspects he’s found one of Mikey’s doing what he’s just done.

Donnie moves back up, cupping Mikey’s cheek and running a thumb under his brother’s eye. “Are you still okay? Too much?”

“A li-little, yeah,” Mikey manages, eyes unfocused. “Gimme a sec, I gotta just…”

“Breathe,” Donnie instructs gently, holding Mikey’s face just as. “Take as much time as you need.”

Mikey smiles, lopsided and beautiful. Donnie backs off again, instead taking Mikey’s hand and rubbing his brother’s knuckles while he pulls himself back together.

Mikey sighs after a long while, gaze clearer but still somewhat heated, and he tugs Donnie down into a shallow kiss.

“That was- amazing,” Mikey says, grinning into the kiss. “You really know your stuff,” is added with a low purr that makes Donnie’s stomach flip. Another brush of their lips, and Mikey says, “Your turn, Dee. Lay down.”

Donnie swallows thickly, and obeys as they switch places.

Donnie lays on his back, settled into the indent Mikey left from his turn at receiving. It’s warm, comfortingly so. Mikey kneels over him, moving to be between Donnie’s legs, and grins like a smug cat as he does.

“You’re  _really pretty,_  you know that, right?” He says in a hushed voice, already trailing his hands along the sensitive weak spots on Donnie’s sides. “Like, your  _eyes,_  and those iddy-biddy freckles on your neck…” Donnie nearly shivers, nimble fingers and low tones going right to his center. “Damn, just damn, Donnie.”

Donnie’s cheeks get hotter, somehow. “Jeez, Mikey. I’m not even that-”

“ _Shh,_  yeah you are,” Mikey leans down, and presses a light kiss to Donnie’s shoulder, right where Donnie has a training scar from a spar with Leo. He shivers this time, hands fisting in the bed sheets underneath him. “All legs and arms and just  _wow,_  Donnie. I’m really, really lucky, aren’t I?”

Donnie can’t deny again, because Mikey’s breath is so close to Donnie’s neck, his bared throat, and it makes him shake. Mikey kisses his scales again, and again, moving closer with each one. A loud, rumbly purr is coming from deep in his plastron, deepening further as Mikey reaches Donnie’s jaw.

Mikey’s hands start their work again, massaging and rubbing tender places. Donnie shudders, almost tightening his legs on either side of Mikey. The sensation is intense- utterly new and overwhelming, getting more so the longer Mikey leaves damp spots on his throat.

Mikey’s hips roll, pressing up against Donnie’s and making them both groan. Donnie’s tail twitches, heat inside it rising. He doesn’t let it out though, trying to keep a level head as Mikey explores his body.

Mikey draws back suddenly, and Donnie can barely shift his gaze to meet his brother’s eyes. Mikey’s light blue eyes are unusually dark, locked on Donnie and taking him in, splayed on the bed like he is.

Donnie’s heart beats staccato loud in his ears, and he can barely swallow.

Mikey smiles, the special way he only does at Donnie- lips curling softly and full of love.

“ _God, Donnie,”_ Mikey says in a hushed voice, and that alone is enough to send a fizzle of pleasure down Donnie’s spine.

Then, Mikey’s hands are everywhere. Massaging Donnie’s tight, cramped shoulders, from bending over his computer and projects all day; carefully scratching or rubbing at hard to reach spots on his shell or under the edges of his carapace; sinking lower and trailing with strong strokes…

Donnie gasps, and whines, and bucks up into the touches. He’s never been touched like this; they’ve done things before, but not  _this._

Mikey’s mouth  _burns,_  leaving hot marks everywhere it lands. Donnie shudders, chirruping, as teeth nip experimentally and then are replaced by tongue. Its slow and wet and Donnie brokenly gasps at the contact, right in the crook of his neck.

Mikey’s hips roll again, spreading Donnie’s legs further and pushing their crotches together. Heat and roiling emotions twist Donnie’s stomach, his breath hitching as the sensations keep rolling through him. He’s purring, moaning, chirping, he’s- he’s-

Mikey’s touch goes lower, sliding around the tip of Donnie’s writhing tail. A thumb presses on it, near the slit and- and too much-

“- _st-stop,”_  Donnie gasps. It’s- too much- “ _Stop, Mikey-”_

The hand on his tail disappears, and the teeth and tongue on his neck do as well. Mikey’s hands disappear, his weight disappears- and Donnie lays there, inhaling unevenly and trying to stop the spiral of his senses.

“Shit,  _shit,”_  Mikey says, just on the edge of Donnie’s blurry vision. “Donnie, I’m sorry. Did I go too far? Did I- get somethin’ that hurts?”

 _Over stimulation,_ Donnie’s brain says, but what comes out of his mouth is-  _“I’m sorry. I’m- I can’t- not yet. I’m sorry, not yet-”_

Mikey’s fingers lightly touch Donnie’s cheeks, utterly careful and not holding him in any way. Just wiping at the wetness there. Donnie is crying, and he hates it as much as the turmoil feelings in his guts.

“Donnie- Donnie  _shh,_  it’s okay, you don’t gotta be sorry,” Mikey says, gentle as his fingers. Donnie hiccups and keeps taking breaths. “ _I’m_  the one who should be sorry, I wasn’t. I wasn’t paying attention enough. Got carried away… aw Dee, I’m sorry. Don’t cry.”

Donnie finally gets his arms up to wipe at his cheeks himself, embarrassed. Every time, it feels like every time they go up a level he gets too overwhelmed and breaks down. The pleasure and sensations from minutes before got to be too much and he just-  _couldn’t handle it._

 _“Then we’ll go slower,”_  Mikey says, because Donnie had been talking aloud without noticing. Mikey’s fingers tentatively curl around Donnie’s. “Whatever speed you want, we’ll go at it. I’m sorry I went off like that. I won’t let it happen again, promise.”

Donnie curls his hand around Mikey’s, holding tight as he starts to slow his breathing down. He manages a nod, and a grateful smile.

“You wanna take a break?” Mikey asks, still remaining away from Donnie’s body besides their joined hands. Donnie nods again, and Mikey nods back. “Okay. We’ll just lie down for a bit. Lemme know how you feel later, alright?”

Donnie can only keep nodding, and shuts his eyes to keep drawing in breaths. Mikey’s lips appear briefly against his hand, but that’s it. Their hands remain linked, but Mikey’s grip is loose and easily breakable. Donnie feels the mattress beside him shift, and Mikey lays down next to him, but not touching. Just there, comfortingly close but distant enough to not crowd.

Donnie’s head clears gradually, and his heady heartbeat slows back down. He doesn’t feel like he’s drowning in sensations anymore, and the steady, rumbling purr Mikey is making draws Donnie back out of his head.

When the last of the unexpected panic drains away, Donnie reopens his eyes, feeling in control again. Mikey’s hand is still in his, laid across his plastron, and the feeling of vibration is still travelling through their conjoined limbs.

 _I’m here, I’m here, I’m here,_  the vibrations says, to the very furthest reaches of Donnie’s hindbrain. It’s not pressing or needy- it’s just Mikey, telling Donnie he’s here and he’s not going anywhere.

Donnie lets out a long sigh, and turns over to pull Mikey flush to him. Mikey comes without hesitance, tucking himself up against Donnie’s length and purring even louder than before. Donnie rubs their flat noses together, sighing as he does, and maneuvers so that they can kiss. It’s not deep or heated; it’s simply caring and careful.

“Feel okay now?” Mikey asks, after a few repetitions of the action.

“Mmm, better, yes,” Donnie says, catching Mikey’s lips and holding them there for a long moment. Mikey clicks in his throat, interested; tongue darting out for a second to lick at Donnie’s mouth, but doesn’t push.

Donnie keeps them close for a little longer, and then pulls back. Mikey does as well, watching Donnie with attentive and somewhat regretful eyes.

“…I’m not ready,” Donnie says after a pause. His hands are holding Mikey close, and their hips are flush, but he’s not… ready, yet. “I’m sorry, but I’m just. Not there yet.”

“That’s okay,” Mikey says without missing a beat. “you don’t have to be.” And he says so, so earnest and genuinely, that Donnie’s shame of not being ready for that step eases a little. Mikey moves a hand up to cup the back of Donnie’s head, and asks, “So… we done for tonight, or… you up for anything more?”

Donnie thinks for a moment, and then says in a low voice, “I think I liked you massaging my shoulders best? It felt… really good.”

Mikey grins, and pushes Donnie’s head forwards to peck him on the nose. “Can do.”

By the end of it, Donnie is a mess of moans and purrs, but at a level he still feels in control. He doesn’t  _like_  being out of control, at someone else’s mercy- not the way Mikey sort of does. Maybe in the future, when he’s more familiar with touches that turn his insides into magma, but not yet.

Mikey’s mouth still burns, but it doesn’t go lower than Donnie’s neck, and its a fiery brand Donnie can bear without issue. His brother’s hands unravel the knots in his arms and shoulders, precise and measured kneading that forces high, breathless sounds out of Donnie’s mouth. They’re good ones, though, and Donnie can manage them as well as the glaze of pleasure that spreads across his brain.

When they’re done, they curl up together in the low light of the room, and settle into a rhythm of humming and purring back and forth. The feeling loneliness Donnie sometimes gets is utterly gone, replaced by a comfortable haze all over his body. From the hearty, rumbling purr Mikey is producing, and the fluttery pecks he leaves up Donnie’s jaw, his brother more than likely feels the same way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo mod Newt does cute as hell art and we've opened the inbox officially to art+writing prompts on tumblr. [come follow us and leave us an ask for the blog or the fic. <3](https://lavender-tangerine.tumblr.com/)


	8. mind mishap.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just something silly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> set way after their relationship has been established, containing p much nothing but goofiness.

Donnie  _knew_  Mikey thought about him- about  _them-_  often enough, but this?

This was just  _ridiculous._

Five memory jumps down, and three and a half of them had been Mikey remembering/thinking/however the fresh hell this mental diving thing worked- about them doing. Things.

On the one hand, it’s really sweet and heartwarming to know how much Donnie’s brother loves him, loves  _being_  with him, but on the other hand- could Mikey think a little  _less_ about loving Donnie??

“Oh hey, we’re home,” Leo remarks, the three of them landing in a tunnel that’s not far from where the lair is. Donnie breathes a sigh of relief, quietly and desperately anxious that one of these jumps is going to land them in an explicit moment that couldn’t be explained away.

“Which way did the neutrinos go?” Raph asks, already poking around for the next rip to fall through.

Donnie spots it immediately- a wobbly part of the wall just ahead of them- but is distracted by a couple of figures coming down the tunnel.

Its himself and Mikey, a few months ago. And they’re- oh no.

They’re standing very close together, hands bumping as they make their way away from the lair, into  _privacy_  to-

Donnie gulps, and his face heats up as he remembers this particular instance of secrecy.

“Hey it’s you guys-” Leo starts to say, pointing at the memory clones, but Donnie grabs him and Raph by the shell and shoves them forwards.

“Yep that definitely is me and Mikey, let’s go find the real one and OH LOOK THE NEXT TEAR,”Donnie shoves both his siblings through the tear, just in time to avoid them seeing his memory clone wrap a hand around Mikey’s, and tug his brother close enough to kiss.

Donnie can’t tear his eyes away for a moment, watching from the outside as Mikey backs Donnie up against the wall, hands and lips wandering all sorts of places now that they have privacy from others. And oh dammnit did Donnie wish that really was him and what was happening right now. Not him running through memories, trying to keep a precious secret  _secret,_  and save Mikey from people he shouldn’t have pissed off.

Donnie sighs longingly, as his and Mikey’s memory clones break apart to laugh and tease. He really wishes that that was him and Mikey right now, instead of them being in semi-mortal peril. As per usual.

He ducks through the mentalscape rip, and puts the pleasant memory behind him.

“Hey Donnie,” Raph asks as Donnie drops into a memory from the farmhouse. “When did you and Mikey go swimming together?”

And Donnie does his best to not scream, grabbing his brothers again and bodily tossing them through the next rip before they can witness Mikey doing  _incredibly inappropriate things to do while swimming_  to Donnie.

“ _Jeez!”_  Leo grouses.

“ _Chill out!”_  Raph adds.

“No time to dawdle!” Donnie exclaims, not letting them go. “We- uh- we have to save Mikey, remember? Come on, then! We’re wasting precious seconds!”

He keeps them running and dodging until they hit the deepest crevasses of Mikey’s mind, and meet the collective facets of his personality there.

One of them, unlike the silly trait, or the angry trait, or the trained warrior trait, gives Donnie a knowing and sly smile. This trait of Mikey’s personality is subtle and slinking, and brushes his hands across Donnie’s shell when he gets too close.

“ _I can’t wait to see you again, outside,”_  That personality trait purrs enticingly, right into Donnie’s ear, and Donnie is extremely glad that their brothers are too busy puzzling out what the core of Mikey is to notice.

And before they go charging into the center of the mentalscape, Donnie gives into temptation and yanks the personality trait flush to him, just as Leo and Raph dive into the tiny doorway to Mikey’s imagination.

The personality trait is  _definitely_  the collection of Mikey’s sneaky and hidden feelings, about lust and love that shouldn’t be, and kissing the personality trait is nearly as good as kissing the real and whole Mikey.

 _“See you on the outside,”_  Donnie promises in a whisper, shivering inside as the trait laughs brightly at him.

 

 

 

When the battle is over and done with, and they’re all nursing headaches the size of watermelons, Donnie risks a lingering touch on Mikey’s hand. Squeezing the hand gratefully, relieved that his brother is okay, despite having a few holes in his mentalscape that will take some time to heal.

Not long after their group has dispersed, each member of their family off to sleep away headaches or just sleep in general (that being Casey, the only one who lacks a throbbing pain in his skull tonight), Donnie draws Mikey into their shared bunk room. Leo and Raph have theirs, with Casey sleeping on the floor or a bed if he can fight and win for one, and April has her private quarters all to herself.

Bunking in doubles and triples is great, because it’s an excellent excuse to be in the same room every night together. Like now, as Donnie lies contently with Mikey on his chest; the two of them breathing in time and nursing their mutual headaches.

Donnie curls a finger under his brother’s chin, scratching and remembering something he needed to tell Mikey. “Hey, Mikey?”

“Hm?” Mikey rouses slightly from his doze. “Yeah, Dee?”

“I love you, and it’s very flattering that you think so much about us, but  _please, for the love of god,”_  Donnie pinches Mikey’s chin. “could you think a little  _less_  about us!? Do you _know_  how many times I had to cover up for your- your  _thoughts?”_

“Aw, but  _Donnie,”_  Mikey whines.

“Almost twenty! Nearly twenty times!”

“But how am I supposed to  _stop_  thinkin’ about you all the time?” Mikey interrupts, wide blue eyes endearing and limpid. He's doing that on purpose, Donnie just knows it. “I  _love you._  Can’t help that shit.”

Donnie’s stomach does a flop, seeing the genuine affection in Mikey’s expression. Unfair, absolutely unfair. “I- well-  _stop it._  You’re not allowed to pull that card!”

“But it’s  _true.”_

“Just- don’t piss off any more people who can look inside your head, okay?”

His brother laughs, the sound travelling through their plastrons. “Can do,” Mikey grins, unrepentant, and slides himself up to kiss Donnie’s chin. Donnie keeps a grimace in place and a stern glare as well, but melts a little more each time Mikey kisses him.

“What am I even going to do with you?” He asks, and relents being mad. Mikey laughs into a kiss, and it’s a sound that reminds Donnie just  _why_  he puts up with this ridiculous boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [come follow us and leave us an ask for the blog or the fic. <3](https://lavender-tangerine.tumblr.com/)


	9. ache.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> their technical "first time".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> set pre-relationship, full of unknown mutual pining and hurt/comfort. less comfort and more so hurt, i'm afraid.

Donnie has a hand on his plastron, nails digging at the tough cartilage- and he  _aches_  inside.

It’s never been this bad, been so overwhelming. But the echo of the walls, the oppressive emptiness of his home, the knowledge that there’s only four people in the entire  _world_  that will ever accept him- it  _hurts._  His ears ring with silence and his lungs don’t want to cooperate. His steps from his lab- a late night working without purpose- are making his path aimless, and he only raises his head when he realizes he’s stopped.

Right in front of Mikey’s door.

_Mikey._

A jolt at his aching chest, and Donnie swallows.

Maybe...?

But, no. Why would he even? This isn’t something that he can ask anyone to solve, it’s a problem with him, with his own malfunctioning brain. Even if Mikey’s smile brings one to Donnie’s face nine times out of ten, even if his brother has never said no to a hug, even if Mikey has always been there and remained a constant comfort even on some of Donnie’s worst feeling nights...

Donnie raises a hand, and then pulls it back.

What would he even ask for? A simple hug won’t fix this. The ache of being  _isolated_  reaches so deeply its in his core. Mikey’s hugs fix a lot of things, centering Donnie or making him feel lighter, but this...?

Donnie should go back to his own room, ride out however long this swing of bad feelings lasts. He can’t do this, even if he’s not entirely sure what  _this_  even is.

His hand is on the knob, though.

Everyone else is asleep. No one would see.

Donnie’s heart clenches.

He’s...

He’s opening the door, because he needs something to stop the ache of  _alone_  in his chest, and there’s a slim chance this could help, somehow.

He’ll just- check on Mikey, go back to his own room right after. Yes. He’ll just see another breathing person, who’s alive and well and  _knows Donnie exists-_  and then he’ll leave.

Except.

Mikey is awake. And staring at him, eyes wide open and attentive.

The door shuts behind Donnie, and he’s trapped himself.

“...Donnie?” Mikey asks in a hushed voice. “Dude, why’re you... it’s like, morning. Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

Donnie is mute, hands trembling at his sides and a rising  _need_  in his stomach.

Mikey sits up, and says in a mildly concerned voice, “Dee? Something the matter?”

Shame makes its way around his throat, and Donnie chokes out,  _“-c-can I- stay for a while?”_

 _Please,_  he barely keep from adding in a whine, desperation climbing inside him.

“Oh, uh. Sure, Donnie. Of course you can.”

Donnie crosses the floor between them before he realizes it, and has to pull himself back from grabbing at Mikey. He forces himself to slowly sit down, a decent amount of space between the both of them. He’s not sure what to do now, or what he was even planning on doing, really, and-

Mikey’s hand on his startles Donnie.

“Hey,” Mikey says, quiet and comforting. “you’re scaring me a little. What’s wrong?”

Donnie’s hand had been shaking, but Mikey’s grip around it keeps it still. He can’t find the words to get it out, to explain the raw  _loneliness_  inside his chest, and he can’t find a way to explain what he wants from Mikey.

He can’t ask, he just.  _Needs it._

He needs it and he needs  _Mikey._

His brother makes a soft sound of surprise as Donnie pulls him forwards abruptly; off-guard as Donnie wraps him into a hug and tries to press himself close as physically possible to Mikey.

Donnie regrets his impulse immediately- they’ve been toeing a line for a while, lingering touches and following gazes- but this is. This is  _different._

He needs it so badly he can’t breathe.

Donnie didn’t realize he was shaking all over, until Mikey wraps his arms around the back of Donnie’s shell and starts to hold him properly; tight and reassuring, that he’s here and Donnie is here and they’re  _not alone._

 _“...okay,”_  Mikey breathes. “Okay. Calm down, Donnie. Just...  _shh.”_

Donnie’s breath comes out fast, sharp and needy, and he pushes his face into Mikey’s shoulder. Breathing just Mikey’s scent and nothing else.

Impulsively, he presses a kiss to Mikey’s neck. It’s fast and fluttery, but he presses a second and a third and then just leaves his mouth there. Still breathing fast and shallow, resisting the simultaneous rise of his fear and  _need_  inside his gut.

Donnie waits for Mikey to push him away, to pull back and ask what the hell Donnie is doing.

His brother doesn’t push him away. Mikey shivers, nails scraping on Donnie’s shell, and doesn’t push him away.

Mikey instead starts to pull him down, lowering them both onto the bed. Donnie’s arms stay locked around Mikey, same as Mikey’s do around him, until they’re on their sides and tangled in the blankets.

Mikey has a hand on the back of Donnie’s head, and the slow petting he’s doing, up and down Donnie’s neck, makes him let out embarrassing chirps. A shift of their legs, and Donnie practically tries to meld their bodies together. Contact all up and down him- but not  _enough_.

“...is this it?” Mikey whispers, right to Donnie’s ear. “Is this what you want?”

 _Need._  Donnie  _needs_  this. Needs it like air, like water, like  _life._

 _“I’m sorry,”_  He gets out. Ashamed, guilty. “I just- I can’t. Can’t be alone. I ne- I  _need-”_

 _“Shhh,”_  Mikey hushes. “It’s okay, don’t get upset.”

“- _I need you,”_  Donnie chokes, barely audible. “Please, I’m sorry but I just- Mikey I need you. I need it to stop-  _hurting-”_

Mikey’s lips are on Donnie’s forehead, and Donnie lets out a whine. He pushes closer, somehow, and puts his mouth on Mikey’s neck again. He can’t breathe but he’s also breathing easier, now that he’s got someone warm, someone close- now that he’s got  _Mikey_ , here and real and drowning out the ache of isolation.

They’re crossing a line-  _Donnie_  is crossing a line. He’s crossing it as he presses his hips to Mikey’s and his lips to his brother’s jaw. He’s crossing it as he rolls them over, pinning Mikey down and barely holding himself above the mattress and his brother’s body. He’s crossing it with trembling limbs and shallow breaths and a kiss right to Mikey’s lips.

He’s crossed it, and keeps crossing it, turning the desperate kiss into a slower, gentler one. Mikey’s scent and taste overwhelm the ache, replacing it with a newer one- and Donnie comes down slowly from his spiral of impulses.

He pulls away, breaking the kiss, and stares down at Mikey.

Mikey stares up at him, lips parted and eye wide.

“- _sorry,”_  Donnie whispers, his actions catching up with him. Fear coils back into his stomach, pushing away the heat that had been kindling there. “I’m. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“...that’s okay,” Mikey says softly. His hands slide up from Donnie’s neck and shell, and cup either side of Donnie’s face. Mikey doesn’t look upset; if anything, he looks ...

Donnie can’t name what Mikey looks like. All he knows is that Mikey is wiping away from wet on his cheeks, and whispering, “ _It’s okay, it’s okay. Breathe, Donnie. ‘m not mad, just... I’m not upset, I promise... just don’t cry, okay? Please don’t cry.”_

Donnie can’t stop crying. He bites his lip and sucks in a breath and can’t stop crying.

“ _Come here, Donnie.”_

He’s drawn back down, and has the lightest kiss possible pressed to his bitten lips.

He doesn’t deserve it, or the warmth starting again inside him.

Mikey presses kisses to Donnie’s mouth, and cheek, and down the side of his jaw. Without meaning to, a purr steadily starts in Donnie’s chest, rising as Mikey’s own does. A hollow vibration begins in his chest, joined by the one spreading out from Mikey’s, and sending Donnie’s body limp and pliant.

All his emotions- fear, anxiety,  _need-_  bleeds out of him, until there’s only sluggishness and warmth inside him. Donnie breathes, slow and even, and lets Mikey press kisses to every inch of Donnie’s face he can.

“Is that better?” Mikey asks, subvocally purring and close enough to Donnie’s ear he shudders. “ _Shh._  Yeah, I thought so. It’s okay, whatever’s bothering you doesn’t matter. Just relax.”

His voice is rumbly in parts, vibrating with the purrs being shared between them. Donnie shudders again, and lets out a soft, drawn out sound.

“...wow, Donnie. I. Wow.”

Donnie makes it again, then a third time, and wraps himself tightly as he can manage around Mikey. He’s embarrassed, but its so distant and Mikey is so  _present_  that he can’t think about it.

 _This is wrong,_  something in him whispers.

Mikey makes his own drawn out sound, and that whisper melts into compliance faster than Donnie does.

The emptiness inside him fills itself, as Donnie lays tangled with his brother and making blissful purrs and rolling clicks. He’s so very distantly guilty, distantly ashamed, distantly  _afraid_ of what’s happened-

But he’s finally  _not alone,_  and Mikey is willing and warm and Donnie couldn’t leave now even if he wanted to.

Donnie lets out a shuddering sigh, prickles of awareness moving across his body- and then melting back into the comfort of being  _close_  with someone. He hears Mikey take a sharp breath in, and then a kiss is pressed to his forehead.

Donnie tilts his head, and catches Mikey’s lips. The heat is back in his gut, subdued but  _there_ , and he can’t help holding Mikey still to do this. This is- this is-  _wrong-_

Mikey kisses back, and that doubt disappears.

Donnie moves slow, shallowly, but thorough as he makes out with his brother. It’s wrong, it’s way over the line, but it feels  _right_ , and it chases out his feelings of isolation completely.

Mikey is purring harsh and loud, chirping every second breath, and then he  _moans,_  and Donnie’s thoughts are gone and its just the closeness, the warmth, the sensation of a body against his and nothing hurting at all.

 

 

 

Donnie wakes slowly, and feels at peace.

Then, with a sick jerk of his stomach, realizes where he is, and what he’s done.

Mikey sighs in his sleep, breath ghosting over Donnie’s scales. They’re pressed still so close, wound up tighter than they’ve ever been before- and what Donnie had done the day prior comes back to him in totality.

He-

He shouldn’t have-

 _It was_ wrong-

But Mikey had kissed  _back-_

_But Donne shouldn’t have-_

Donnie untangles himself from Mikey, and climbs out of the bed. The floor is cold on his bare feet, and the warmth of the shared bed calls him back.

Donnie forces himself to walk away. He couldn’t handle explaining himself to Mikey right now. He couldn’t face what they’d done- what  _he’d_  done.

Donnie opens the door, leaves, and closes it silently. He doesn’t look back once, because he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to leave if he does.

As the door clicks shut, Mikey’s eyes open.

He stares at it for a long, long moment, and then turns over; into the warm spot Donnie left.

It’s a pale comfort.

Mikey shuts his eyes, and tells himself this is fine. That he’s fine like this and they’re fine like this. He doesn’t need to chase after Donnie, and he doesn’t need to ask if they can ever do this again.

He doesn’t need to go ask-  _beg-_  to have Donnie make those sounds again, be so needy and vulnerable like that. He doesn’t need to see Donnie undone and desperate for contact like that again, or be allowed to satisfy that aching need to be  _near_  someone, a second time around.

Hugs are fine. Training together is fine. Bumping knees under the table and sitting close by the television and picking spots right next to one another on patrol is  _fine._

Mikey is fine.

He curls up, guilty and too hollow, and is anything but that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feelings are so messy.


	10. it's probably the carburetor.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> never enough space arc shenanigans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> goofy and short and at the behest of mod Newt.

In hindsight, they should have known that the escape pod would break down. With their luck, it was inevitable.

It could have been worse. They aren’t anywhere overtly hostile, and the space quadrant they’re been stranded in is a fairly safe one. No solar storms or imploding stars or meteor belts. Just wide, wide space; filled with distant burning stars and collectives of planets.

It’s lovely to look at, all sprawling, humbling majesty- but Mikey is already starting to get bored; slouching in his passenger seat of the small emergency escape pod. Donnie beside him is hunched forwards, forehead pressed against the now unresponsive controls. The engine stopped making them Go about fifteen minutes ago, and seeing as neither of them has any replacement parts for the bits that broke, they’re stuck.

Donnie is despondent; like he usually is when he encounters something his earth knowledge doesn’t extend to. Mikey knows even less than him about how to fix the broken space age junk with absolutely nothing, so. He kind of gets it.

“They’re gonna find us sooner or later,” Mikey comforts. He glances out the viewpoint, at the stars. “I mean, how long can it take to escape a ten ship firefight?”

“-----”

“What?”

“I _said-”_ Donnie raises his head, flatly glaring at Mikey. “-we wouldn’t be in this mess in the _first place_ if you and Casey could have just _kept a low profile.”_

Mikey rolls his eyes. Unfair expectations. “Dude, when have we _ever?_ And Raph totally instigated it, just so you know.”

“I should have known a congregation of the most notorious and lucrative black market contributors plus _our family_ wouldn’t turn out well.” Donnie rubs his eyes, sighing. “I just hope no one gets shot today. I don’t want to have to deal with that.”

“Hey, we didn’t get shot, so there’s that?”

“We only didn’t get shot because you pulled me out of the banquet hall before anyone even drew their guns. You couldn’t have given everyone a head’s up instead?”

Mikey shrugs. “I had a priority, Dee. Leo and the rest could handle themselves.”

“What prio- oh no, no you don’t get to sap your way out of this one,” Donnie scolds, and Mikey just smiles sweetly. Donnie reaches over and gives Mikey a shove. “Making my safety your priority is _not_ getting you excused from helping cause a mass dissolution of allied pirate crews.”

“Does it at least make you less mad?” Mikey asks hopefully, leaning towards his brother. Donnie’s terse frown squirms entertainingly, and finally, he smiles just a little.

“Okay, maybe a little,” Donnie admits, dark on the highest points of his cheeks and _aw,_ adorable. “But don’t think I’m not still kind of mad at you.”

“Fair enough,” Mikey concedes cheekily, and they lapse into easy silence.

After the rush of adrenaline, grabbing an escape pod and booking it out of the main pirate ship before anyone could stop them, the calm of being inside the pod without _going_ anywhere is… nice? In an odd way. Just the two of them, no eyes on them, or expected interruption for hours…

Hm. Possibilities of what to do with that time are limited, but appealing.

“Wanna fuck?” Mikey offers, even though his kinda twisted ankle is throbbing and he’s got bruises everywhere from the fight he, Casey, and Raph had gotten into with pirate gamblers. He’s bored and it’s been a good few weeks since they’ve had a chance to really be together in private. Anything is welcome at this point.

“Too tired,” Donnie mumbles, looking like he really is. Seeing as Donnie and he had had to fight through three levels to break into the escape pod areas- where they _totally_ were not allowed to go- and Donnie had been up all night prior doing Science Shit with the professor… Mikey can understand the decline.

“Eh, me too.”

“Cuddle?”

“Mmmmfuckyeah. Always.”

The pod has a bench thing instead of proper seats, and it’s more than big enough to accommodate one very tall mutant and one not so tall mutant, since it was built to be accessible to majority bipedal and quadrupedal aliens. Small blessing when trying to get comfortable for a long wait.

Mikey and Donnie squirm around a bit, getting comfortable, and they end up in the usual relaxing position they choose. Mikey enjoys lying on top of his brother with their legs tangled together. He likes feeling the rise and fall of Donnie’s plastron and being within kissing distance if he wants to.

For now though, just lying together on the surprisingly plush bench is good enough. Mikey can feel his aches healing already.

“We need to stop trying to meet new people,” Donnie mutters, stroking the scutes of Mikey’s shell. “It never ends well for us.”

“Don’t need to meet more,” Mikey mutters back, cheek pressed against Donnie’s neck. “’ve got you.”

Donnie huffs, affectionately pressing his lips to the dome of Mikey’s skull. “Same to you I guess.” He strokes Mikey’s shell a few more times. “You’re still in trouble for raising hell like that.”

“Tha’s fair,” Mikey mumbles, and settles into a comfy half-nap as they cuddle. If anyone arrives to pick them up at the distress coordinates they sent while they’re still like this, Mikey will blame their mutual exhaustion and desire to just _rest_. Not like he hasn’t before, and gotten away with it every time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the show's writers wasted the potential of the space arc.


	11. safe only here.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> finally nsfw stuff woo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Newt and me were talking about the crossover ep with usagi a while back, and lmao here we go with the first instance of nsfw in this series of drabbles.
> 
> p light stuff, but you know. its the dick. be aware.

Donnie watches Mikey die, right before his eyes, and can do nothing as his brother bleeds out, falls, and slips from Donnie’s reach.

Donnie dies not seconds later, in an agonizing way that brings flashes of the night  _April_  had killed him- and he can’t even say he’s upset to follow Mikey into oblivion. He wants to kill Jei, but- without  _Mikey-_  what’s the point-?

And Donnie wakes up, staring up at the steadily rising dawn, and can’t believe he’s alive. And if  _he’s_ alive-

Donnie throws off his shock, images of horror in his brain clogging his senses, and bolts upright to find-  _Mikey,_  who is clutching his middle, gasping shallowly and staring around in stunned disbelief.

The others are waking up now- though Leo remains curled up and shivering, making distressed sounds with his eyes shut- but Donnie seizes the chance while everyone is still groggy to dash towards Mikey, and pull his brother into a desperate hug.

Mikey is shaking. Donnie is shaking. Donnie wants to press kisses all over Mikey until they both stop but they’re not alone so he  _can’t._

It’s physically hard to let go of Mikey, Donnie’s nerves alight with fear and the acidic taste of his own death on his tongue. Mikey gives a weak, shaken smile as Donnie moves away, and keeps a hand clasped in Donnie’s.

It hurts to let go, fully separating until they’re alone. Which takes  _all day,_  and then into the night, as they travel to their next destination. Donnie can’t stop thinking about the dreams Jei gave them- the horrific deaths they all suffered. He wants to wrap around Mikey and hide them from everything, press his face into his brother’s neck and feel that Mikey is  _alive_  and he’s okay and neither of them died.

Donnie’s hands tremble on and off, breath shortening when he thinks too hard about the dreams and sensations of death. Mikey is pale on the edges, smiling tightly for the sake of show, and Donnie aches to fix that.

He waits, though. For the sake of their secret.

When they’ve set up camp for the night, at the base of the mountains they’ll be climbing, Donnie waits a little longer. While dinner is made, and served, and they finish eating- he gives Mikey a look. A signal. One they’ve perfected over the years.

Mikey sees it, and nods. He smiles at Donnie, wane but loving, and it gives Donnie enough strength to be patient.

When their brothers, as well as Kintaro and Usagi, begin to nod off, Donnie excuses himself to go for a walk. Just a short one, maybe to collect more firewood. Mikey volunteers to come with him, as a backup in case something happens.

They’re let to leave without fuss, no one concerned about the two of them going for such a late walk as the sun disappears completely. In twilight, Donnie walks stiffly away from the camp, hands carefully kept away from Mikey while they’re in sightline.

Once they’ve melted into the brush, he holds a hand out to his brother.

Mikey takes it, squeezing firmly, and then they walk further.

Donnie’s steps quicken the further they go, and his heartrate speeds up. The need to hide, to get away from everyone, to conceal himself and Mikey from everything that could hurt them- it thrums through Donnie, compelling and nerve wracking.

Mikey follows, silent but keeping up, and Donnie is so grateful his brother understands without it being said aloud.

Finally it’s too much to bear, and Donnie halts them. In the middle of the woods, wrapped in darkness and barely lit by the moon above. He looks down at Mikey, whose eyes reflect trust and concern and exhaustion from the nightmares-

And Donnie can’t help himself, pulling Mikey close and pushing their lips together. Like he’s wanted to all day, confirming for  _certain_  that Mikey is alive and well and Donnie hasn’t died a second time.

It’s not enough, and he slowly pushes Mikey backwards, against a tree’s trunk and crowding closer still. Mikey’s breath is hot against Donnie’s mouth, familiar and warm as they break between kisses. It’s still not enough to shake the horror curdled inside Donnie, and he tries to meld them together; pressed flush to Mikey as much as he can be standing up, hands roaming and tongue darting to swipe across his brother’s lips.

Mikey makes a breathless sound, starting to sink to the grassy ground, and Donnie follows him without breaking contact. Mikey’s legs part around Donnie’s waist, sliding into Donnie’s lap as they start to purr to one another.

Donnie’s chest thrums, hollow fear being flooded over by coiling  _need_  and comfort and reassurance that they’re okay, they’re okay, they’re okay…

 _“It’s okay,”_  Mikey says breathlessly, cupping Donnie’s cheeks and slowing the desperate kisses. “Donnie, look at me, we’re  _okay._  No one died, you’re fine and I’m fine. Calm down…”

Donnie feels himself trembling, and he  _can’t_  calm down. Not with the feeling of every bone in his body breaking, the image of Mikey’s stomach sliced open and pouring blood still fresh in his mind- all that horror, all that _loss._

“You  _died,_ Mikey,” Donnie says in a wavering voice. “I  _saw you die.”_

Mikey holds Donnie’s cheeks in his hands, gently swiping at moisture collecting on Donnie’s eyelids. It dampens his mask as Mikey clears his tears away.

“…how did  _you_  die, Donnie?” Mikey asks softly, holding Donnie gently and gently holding him together. “I know you did. What’s freaking you out so much, ‘sides me?”

Donnie swallows.

“He- Jei broke my bones.” Mikey makes a sharp sound of worry. “Almost all- all of them. My whole body.” The feeling plays through Donnie’s body again, and he knows his hands shake on Mikey’s hips.

Mikey presses soothing kisses to Donnie’s forehead, nose, and lips, whispering reassurances and that he’s sorry that happened, that Donnie didn’t deserve to be hurt so badly again, and Donnie replies to Mikey he’s sorry his brother got gutted like that, that Mikey didn’t deserve to be hurt either.

They’re sorry, even though it was just a dream, that they couldn’t protect one another.

Talk dies off as they drift closer again, lips touching lightly, then more deeply, and the frenzy to feel each other warm and alive returns. Not quite as desperate, but nearly.

Donnie follows his need, pressing his lips on Mikey’s neck and leaving nips that won’t bruise. Mikey gasps, chirruping as he leans his head backwards against the tree; baring his neck and letting Donnie as near as he needs to be. Donnie feels Mikey’s tail stir between them, flicking back and forth as they grind against one another.

He slips a hand down to catch it, pressing his thumb along the slit just for a moment. Mikey makes a hitching chirr, hands dragging down Donnie’s shell as Donnie massages his brother’s tail tip. As Mikey curls into Donnie, putting his face into Donnie’s shoulder and breathing fast and hot, he presses burning kisses against the tender scales.

They end up horizontal on the ground, writhing on the grass as they try to melt into one another. They’re far enough from camp they can afford to be a little careless; gasps and moans slipping out as they grind. It quells the anxious fear in Donnie’s guts, replacing it with controlled lust and hazy love. The paleness to Mikey fades away and the lopsided, swollen lipped smile he gives Donnie is so, so beautiful.

They can’t go  _too_  far, here in the wilderness and on the run, but they have enough time for some things. Like letting their hands roam everywhere, touching and caressing. Massaging bruises and finding sensitive spots that make the other gasp aloud, shuddering at the touch. Like pressing kisses, high and low, and evoking breathless moans of pleasure as lips skim scales and leave hardly noticeable bites.

In the end, they climax after a long period of touching- spending every ounce of care in reassuring one another they’re alive, they’re alive and whole and together- and Donnie’s hand wraps around their members as he catches Mikey’s lips. His brother breathes short and fast, clicking and chirring as he gets closer to the edge. A vibration of pure pleasure rumbles between their plastrons, matching the rising heat as Donnie pumps their cocks together.

It ends as Mikey comes, open mouthed against Donnie and arcing into his touch. That sound, of love and pleasure, pushes Donnie to the edge shortly after.

They end up curled together, entwined on the forest floor. Breathing harsh and happy, pressing lingering kisses to one another as the glow surrounds them. It’s been nonstop adventure and danger the past few days, and it’s a heady relief to have this, this moment of tranquility and assurance. For however long they stay here, it’ll feel like nothing in the world could hurt them.

Donnie dozes lightly, finally at peace enough that he can close his eyes and not feel fear for or of anything. It’s only as Mikey’s hand cups the back of his head that he rouses, blinking sleepily at his brother.

Mikey is giving him a concerned look, a frown tugging at his lips. Donnie reaches up automatically to smooth the lines there, whispering, “What? ‘s something wrong?”

“…what Jei did to you, it probably felt like the, uh… the night April… you know,” Mikey skirts actually saying _vaporized you,_ as it still invokes nightmarish memories in them both. The night Donnie experienced oblivion, and Mikey- Mikey had been _left behind_ , with no guaranteed he could follow and the certainty Donnie was _gone-_

Neither of them enjoy dwelling on the night. They love April, much as they love anyone in their family, but that wound took months to heal over.

Donnie shivers, the sensation of both death experiences shuddering through him. He hides his face in Mikey’s neck again, breathing in slow and steady to fight the memories.

“Yeah,” he whispers. “It did feel like that.”

Mikey murmurs sympathetically, tightening his hold around Donnie.

“This adventure isn’t fun anymore,” Mikey laments quietly. Donnie nods stiffly, more than inclined to agree. His brother sighs softly, mumbling, “I hope we get to go home soon.”

 _Home,_ to Donnie’s lab, and their rooms, and a whole city full of dark shadows and abandoned buildings and all sorts of secret places they can be together. Safe, guarded, relaxed again at last.

Donnie doubts he’ll be able to let Mikey out of his sight once they’re back. He suspects Mikey feels the same way. This has been plenty an adventure for them for at least another month.

“I hope so, too,” Donnie says, and prays that nothing worse befalls them before they do escape this dimension.

They linger in their mutual comfort as long as they can, and then reluctantly drag themselves back towards camp. A brief stop in the stream they passed earlier, and they slip into the ring of sleeping persons without anyone noticing something amiss.

Settling down close as they can on their sleeping mats, just before they shut their eyes, Donnie takes Mikey’s hand one last time. He squeezes it tightly, willing all of his concern and care and love into the gesture, and gets a smile from Mikey that warms him through.

They release their grips, and sleep. The dreams they have this time are sweet and vague, and Donnie is grateful for that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mmmmmyeah hurt/comfort and mild nsfw, lovely.


	12. early evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> very short sfw stuff, pure fluff&most minor of angst. prompted by redninja111 over on our tumblr!

Counting the freckles and slivers of scars on Mikey’s face, Donnie smiles to himself. When he’s sleeping, at least in one of their beds, the both of them together- Mikey looks so peaceful. He’s a whirl of energy and ever changing moods when they’re out and about, but here, safely behind a locked door and under shared covers, he’s able to sink into a quiet and calm they both get, being together like this.

“Staring’s rude,” Mikey mumbles, not opening his eyes yet.

“It’s appreciative staring, I promise,” Donnie replies softly.

“Mngh… I’d flirt back, but I am. Not ready to be alive. Ugh.”

“Too bad,” Donnie says, and moves close enough he can peck Mikey on the nose before sitting up. His brother whines at the rush of cold air as their comforter is shifted. “Leo’s going to be up probably in the next half hour, and then we’ve got training.”

“An’ I gotta go back to my own room before then, yada yada yada, I know the drill,” Mikey says sullenly, sitting up as well. He yawns, rubbing his eyes. “Sucks we don’t have like, shared rooms and bunk beds. Then we wouldn’t have to do this shit all the time.”

“C’est la vie,” Donnie says, and pushes off the rest of his covers; climbing over Mikey and getting out of bed. “In another world, maybe. But in this one… we have to.”

In another world, maybe they wouldn’t be like  _this_ to each other. So dependent on the presence of one another that most days they couldn’t sleep alone anymore. Sharing a heavy, dangerous secret- and unable to pull away from it, no matter how wrong it was in truth.

Codependency is addictive, and it’s the sleepy, slow kisses Mikey pulls Donnie back down for that keep him coming back for another hit, just one more high.

Donnie’s eyes flutter open briefly, as they leave lingering heat on each other’s lips, and once again he counts and catalogs the little flecks across Mikey’s face, tracing the dozens of tiny scars from years and years of training, roughhousing, and fighting, with and beside their family.

Things are so difficult to deal with, some nights. Their brothers and father, the enemies they all face, the endless and growing obstacles in life they have to overcome…

It’s only these moments, the two of them together in their own little world, that gets Donnie through it all. The fact that Mikey feels the same, crawling into Donnie’s bed during the day and curling around him like something precious and in need of protecting, only feeds the addiction of it all.

Pulling back just a bit, resting their foreheads together, Donnie sighs, and smiles.

“You can’t distract me from kicking you out with just that.”

“ _…_ was worth the shot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> actually, we got nominated for an award with the reader's choice awards for the tmnt fandom! if you could, go find them on tumblr @ tmntuniversalfanficcomp and give us a vote when the time comes. :D


	13. now and forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> missed these two, and felt like i'd do a dreamy little drabble for them.

“Okay… riddle me this.”

“Yeah?”

“How much do you love me?”

Donnie lets out a huff of laughter, giving Mikey a light shove as they walk. “That’s not a _riddle,_ Mikey. That’s a question.”

Sticking out his tongue, Mikey jumps away from his brother to go balance on the edge of the roof they’re strolling across. He stands on the very, very edge of the stone ledge, night wind breezing past him and streetlights below casting him into shadow.

“Then answer me this,” Mikey corrects, a cheeky smile barely hidden by the slant of darkness he’s in. “How much do you love me?”

Donnie crosses his arms, a light smirk forming on his lips. “Enough… that I’ll put up with your dirty sheets and ‘exotic’ cooking choices.”

“Ugh, _Dee,_ that’s barely an answer,” Mikey scoffs. He walks along the thin ledge as he keeps talking, short mask tails bouncing in time with his steps. “I’m being serious… you know, for once.”

“For once,” Donnie echoes in good humor, and follows his brother’s progress along the roof’s edge with equally careful steps. They come to a stop when they run out of roof, and Mikey stands poised on the very corner of the tall business building they’re atop, while Donnie comes to a stop just behind him, still on the roof proper.

“…how long do you think we can really do this?” Mikey asks, a solemnity to his words that comes only in rare moments. He turns a look towards Donnie, sky blue eyes bright even in the darkness and glinting as they stare at him. “I don’t plan long term or nothin’, ‘cause that’s more Leo’s thing than me… but Donnie, where’s this gonna go?”

Even alone on their evening jaunt, they’ve maintained a safe distance from each other. Never lingering in each other’s space too conspicuously, as they’ve become practiced at over the years.

A month ago, they reached four years. And yet, it somehow feels the same as when it all started. Still hidden, still cherished, still built on near crippling codependency on bad nights. An even bigger secret than even their existences are from the rest of the world.

“I don’t know,” Donnie answers truthfully, because after they came clean with how they felt, how deeply they needed one another… they swore there’d be no more lies between them, however white or grey or black. “Probably wherever our lives take us, I guess. We can’t exactly… tell anyone, or…”

 _Stop doing this,_ he doesn’t say. They both hear it, acknowledge it, and already knew it to begin with. Once they started… they couldn’t go back to how it’d been before.

“Mm, yeah. But... at least it’s easier with Sensei gone,” Mikey says, and it’s a callous, cold thing to say, but that’s a part of Mikey Donnie has long since accepted. The part of him that only cares for the _now_ , and the things that he wants.

He wants Donnie, and they have their present together. That’s enough for both of them, as it must be.

They can’t… ever have anything more.

“It is,” Donnie agrees, because it really is. Splinter’s passing removed a vigilance from their lives, and with it gone, they… certainly took advantage of the sudden lack of parental supervision.

Their brothers are not the most observant at times. It’s become a great blessing, as their secret grows in longevity.

But how long will that last? Where and when will it end? When will _they_ end?

Neither of them knew the answer to that at the beginning of it all, nor do they now. Perhaps they never will.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Mikey prompts, after the silence has settled and passed. Donnie hums, looking up at the night sky as the wind catches his long mask tails; blustering them up from the back of his neck and making them tickle his scales. Mikey watches them, watches Donnie, and it’s with the same intense catlike intensity he’s grown to have, regarding anything to do with his brother.

Every little moment is precious. Every second they have together is both a question and affirmation. Anything could happen in their lives, and so, they treasure even the smallest of glances shared.

Donnie smiles, meeting his brother’s fixated stare with his own calmly hooded one.

“I love you enough… that I’d wish I could say this would go on forever, and we’d never have to find out where it ends.”

That earns a pleased grin from Mikey, toothy and excited. Casting multiple careful glances around, ensuring not a single soul might see them, he leans in from his slight height on the ledge.

Donnie, drawn in as he tends to be by Mikey’s more brash and dangerous choices, meets Mikey’s lips with his own. A soft sigh escapes him as they kiss, chaste and gentle, and they remain like that with their eyes closed for as long as they can.

The dull roar of nightlife in New York comes back into focus though, and they force themselves to come apart again. It is, as it always is, like separating from a halve of themselves.

Even still, Donnie’s calm smile remains in place, and Mikey’s own satisfied one does as well.

“We need to get going,” Donnie says reluctantly. “Leo and Raph will start calling if we take too long with dinner.”

“They should be grateful I don’t just sit you down at Murakami’s and have us a night out,” Mikey says, a hint of playful scorn in his voice. Donnie rolls his eyes, well used to Mikey’s slight possessiveness of both food and him, as his brother is used to Donnie’s about technology and Mikey.

“Perhaps,” Donnie replies neutrally, and laughs at Mikey over exaggerated huff of annoyance. They take a leap over free air to the next building, picking up the pace again as they head to retrieve their family dinner. With long strides, Donnie keeps pace with his smaller, speedier sibling, and overtakes him momentarily just for fun and to earn an eye roll from his brother.

“Oh, and fyi,” Mikey says as they near the restaurant of their dear friend, jumping over Donnie and springing off a small window ledge to take the lead again, “I love you enough that I’d want to say this’d never end, too.”

Donnie smiles, soft and warm as he is inside, the words given to him coming to rest close to his center, where they’ll hide with all the others Mikey has given him.

“I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cheers.


	14. **announcement**

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **announcement**

Hello followers.

Due to the mods of the lavender-tangerine blog drifting away from D/M shipping, and the both of them wanting to move onwards with their lives unburdened, we've elected to delete our tumblr and orphan this fic.

Thank you for your support and comments, goodbye.

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what you thought in the comments below. :D


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